Living a Country Western Song

Homeless. Living in RV Park back on the streets of Bakersfield. The Jeep is in the shop having body work done after high desert wind did serious damage by blowing door into front fender. The lonely train whistle blows every half hour as the long freight trains roll past the RV Park. My man is in Texas and I'm still in Bakersfield. Notice a recurring theme? Now if I can get all this to rhyme and set it to a heartbreak tune I'll have a real hit on my hands. The only part that doesn't match is renting a Ford Taurus from Hertz rather than driving somebody's old pick-em up truck!

I've decided I must have done something really bad that I need to repent of. Otherwise, God wouldn't be letting me spend so much time in Purgatory. But this has led me to a greater understanding of Purgatory: I have reached the place of knowing that I would willingly give up whatever is keeping me here in order to get out of here! If there is any attachment still left, I'm at the point of renouncing whatever it is in order to achieve a greater good--the greatest good!

In any event, I did go to mass this morning. My first try was to go to the small Ukrainian Catholic mission that used to be on Truxton--it was gone. Signs gone. All gone. So much for good intentions! So I went back to the big sale at Gottschalks. Some guilt set in and I headed for a Catholic mass. There I was treated to a "miked" organist who chatted at the congregation while playing the introduction to the opening song--one could not call it a hymn. The homily equated Steven King with John the Baptist. I won't even go there. King was referred to as the 21st century John the Baptist and his commencement speech at Vassar was quoted extensively--Steven King, not John the Baptist. The bottom line was "when you're laying in a ditch with broken glass in your hair, no one takes Mastercard. WOW!!!" The 'WOW' was the priest's comment, not mine. I could have cried.

Upon returning to the RV Park I realized I had a serious math problem: a rental car to return and an RV to move out of the park. One driver and two vehicles. That dog don't hunt!!! Thanks to the help of a dear former neighbor I have made plans to at least keep the vehicles in one place and maybe even get the rental car returned. The Jeep is still in the body shop with no word so far on how the repairs are going.

I remember when I thought life was like a Bach concerto. And all it turned out to be was another verse in a generic Country Western song.